The Going Rate
by MoonlitePage
Summary: James Barnes had utilized a lot of skills since joining the army. Many he'd learned in the service and plenty he'd learned before too. But even as a prisoner of war there was one skill he never expected to have to use. And then Monty got sick. POW Bucky, Azzano, Guard bartering, Howling Commandos, Cannon Universe, Could be Stucky, Rated T for swearing and mentions of adult themes
1. Chapter 1

It started the morning Monty woke up coughing. He was hardly the only prisoner to do so, even that very day, but Bucky knew right away this was more serious. He'd spent enough time cataloging and listening to Steve cough to know the difference. Monty was _really_ sick, the kind of thing that required medicine to heal from (antibiotics specifically which, no matter how experimental everyone else called them, Bucky knew worked; they'd saved Steve enough times to make him a believer).

But Bucky also knew just asking their captors for medicine would accomplish precisely nothing. He'd have to exchange something and there was only one thing he had to offer. He chose his target carefully, spent all day studying one guard after another. Most of them were too violent, too eager to beat up a prisoner for stepping even the slightest bit out of line, too likely to out him. And he didn't trust any of those goons would actually give him medicine after.

But there was one, the only one who didn't walk around with a billystick constantly in his hands. He was more lenient than the others, more forgiving. As much as he could be anyway. He'd shove prisoners, but never too hard and didn't hit them for stumbling. And unless Bucky was wrong, the guard's gaze had lingered on some of the prisoners in less than platonic way. If Bucky had a chance with any of the guards, he'd be the one.

Bucky waited until the end of the work day, when he and most everyone were half dead on their feet from building HYDRA's weapons for the last 12 hours, give or take. They were put in a couple of parallel lines and escorted down the halls. Most everyone's feet were shuffling. Dugan and Gabe were doing their best to subtly support Monty, whose cheeks were flushed despite how cold it was and who was trying to keep his coughs subtle.

Bucky caught Morita's eye as he slowed, falling behind his cellmates. Morita looked concerned, eyes flicking between Bucky and the guards like he knew Bucky was about to try something. Bucky offered him a flash of a smile and nodded towards Monty. Thankfully, Morita understood the unspoken message and let it go with the slightest nod.

Carefully Bucky slipped further and further back through the other soldiers, walking just slow enough to get outpaced. A couple of the men gave him funny looks as they passed him, but otherwise they ignored him. Finally, near the very back of the procession, Bucky came level with his chosen guard. He knew he'd have to be subtle, he didn't want _everyone_ to see after all, but he also needed to be sure the guard noticed him.

That turned out to be less of a problem than he expected because when he tilted his bowed head, looking out of the corner of his eye, the guard was already watching him. As far as Bucky would tell with the man's helmet covering his face, anyway. Bucky gave him a little smirk, a little flick of his eyebrows. He wanted to reach out, touch the man's wrist and make it abundantly clear, but that would be too obvious.

So he subtly played with his lip using his teeth and tongue, eyeing the guard from head to toe. It was maybe a little overdone and far less personal than Bucky usually preferred while flirting, but if the guard was even halfway interested he'd likely accept what Bucky was offering. After all, it wasn't like there were women around and even a straight man would be willing to make an exception in a pinch (Bucky knew that from experience).

To Bucky's amazement, the guard gave the slightest nod with just that and Bucky could have melted in relief. They were near the cells by then, at the point where the guards always grew more lax and didn't enforce the rigid procession lines as strictly as they did for the rest of the walk. That's when the guard grabbed his arm and yanked him abruptly aside. Into a little closet Bucky hadn't even known was there because the door to it was hidden in an unlit alcove.

He was shoved up against the wall immediately and it took most of his self control not to fight back despite the way his heart jumped in a panic. Instead he simply waited, stared at the black visor of the mask covering the guard's face and breathed. There was a single dull light in the room, hanging above and behind the guard, making the visor darker and barely illuminating the empty shelves around them. Bucky waited until the guard finally spoke.

"You want something." It was said in English, rough and heavily accented and hushed, but definitely English.

Bucky nodded. "Medicine. Antibiotics, if you have them. For my sick friend." He clarified, speaking quietly as well. The room was certainly not soundproof and this could potentially get them both in a lot of trouble.

The guard studied his face closely. "And if I get you some, what will you do for me?" He finally asked.

Bucky swallowed, shoved down his apprehension, and put on a confident little smirk that had always done well with both women and men in the past. "At least a blowjob. More, if you want." Bucky actually didn't feel as disgusted saying it as he thought he would. It wasn't like he hasn't done this before; a couple blowjobs to the right kind of people in back alleys had helped pay for Steve's medicine more than once. And Bucky didn't exactly hate doing it either.

The guard studied him again then finally pulled back from where he'd been leaning forward, pushing and holding Bucky to the wall with his weight. "Let's see how good, then I'll decide if it's worth more." The guard decided and Bucky nodded.

He didn't exactly want to get fucked and was confident enough in his skills he didn't think it'd go that far. But if that's what it took, then he'd do it. Monty was worth it: any of them were worth it. Bucky didn't wait for the guard to get impatient, though. He quickly knelt at the man's feet and undid the guard's belt. He kept his eyes open long enough to not poke himself in the eye, then he closed them and imagined he was anywhere else.

* * *

The guard didn't ask for more once Bucky got him off. Just fixed his uniform as Bucky wiped his mouth, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back to his cell. The others were worried about him, of course, but waited silently until the guard was gone. Then they all started asking questions at the same time.

"What happened?" was from Morita. "Are you okay, Sarge?" from Dugan. "What did he want?" was asked by Gabe. And "Are you alright?" Came from Monty. Bucky was briefly taken aback by worried they'd all been and it put a small smile on his face.

Bucky didn't fight when Monty pulled on his arm, taking a seat next to the Englishman who immediately started looking him over. Bucky caught Monty's hands after a moment. "I'm fine." He promised soothingly. The others at least stopped fussing, but they were all looking at him with concern. Waiting for an answer. Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the bars. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to rest against, but besides each other there wasn't anything else. "I was trying to medicine for Monty." He finally offered in an undertone.

"James." Monty scolded and Bucky glared at him. He was not about to apologize for helping someone he cared about; he never had and he never would. "That wasn't…" Monty was interrupted by a cough and Bucky rubbed his back, doing what he could to help and just the tiniest bit thankful for all the practice he'd gotten with Steve.

"Nothing for it. It's done and whatever happens, happens. So just let it go, alright? Now we need to sleep." Bucky insisted firmly. The others eyed him and Bucky could tell more than one of them wanted to ask more, but they knew he was right. It was past lights out and they barely got enough sleep as it was. Bucky adjusted, pulling Monty against him to share body heat.

The Englishman looked like he wanted to say something but swallowed it. Instead he nestled against Bucky, obviously grateful for the warmth as he was faintly trembling. The rest of the room stilled, filled only with breathing and some snores. A few cries here and there from men having nightmares. Even those in his cell fell asleep quickly, but Bucky knew he wouldn't. It was an ingrained instinct to stay up and soothe someone sick through the night.

He still jumped when Monty sleepily whispered "Thank you for trying, James."

"Course. Now sleep." Bucky insisted just as quietly. Monty chuckled, but after only a few seconds his body went lax as his breathing deepened. Bucky kept an arm around the Englishman's shoulders and sleep refused to come to him. Bucky watched out the window in the ceiling in the room above their cell as the sky changed from midnight blue to black to a pale blue with gold and pink tinted clouds. It wasn't quite sunrise, but close and still quite beautiful.

The sun had just barely risen, as far as Bucky could tell from the way the sky lightened, when the guards came back. They started shouting and hitting the bars, waking the room and ordering everyone to their feet. Bucky helped Monty up, who wasn't looking any better but at least only a little worse. They were ordered from the cell and Bucky took it upon himself to look after Monty, since he'd failed at getting medicine. He had known it was a long shot, but at least the guard hadn't outed him as gay or beat him up for it.

The guard was part of the group escorting them this morning too, and as Bucky and his work crew got set up at their station he came over to them. The guards frequently looked over their work, usually to make sure they weren't sabotaging anything, and this guard seemed to be doing the same but Bucky didn't miss the way the guard leaned over his shoulder, close enough to touch him. In fact, he did; Bucky felt something brush his pocket and the guard dropped something inside before he walked away.

Bucky was in shock for a moment until Monty nudged him, silently asking what was wrong. Bucky gave him a smile, grabbed his tools, and moved over to a set of the missile cartridges next to the table. HYDRA had at least given him a ladder since the cartridges were huge and, since he'd worked on ships back in Brooklyn, he'd volunteered to do the more dangerous welding work. There was little he could mess up and get away with, but whatever he could, he did. Today's mistakes were less intentional and more a result of his preoccupation with the weight in his pocket, but if it really was what he thought it was then Monty would be okay and it had been worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

A week after Monty's medicine was all gone (the Englishman thankfully cured from his sickness by then) Dugan got cut. He and Bucky had been working on some sheets of metal, Dugan holding it still while Bucky welded them together. The metal had snapped suddenly under the heat and the edge caught Dugan, leaving a deep gash along most of his forearm.

"Shit." Bucky quickly set aside everything and grabbed his friend's arm. The wound was serious, deep enough to need stitches and it pouring blood. Bucky grabbed his own outer shirt and ripped it, tearing off strips of fabric. It took most of his shirt, enough it wasn't even worth wearing anymore, to slow the bleeding.

Dugan had flinched several times and groaned and grunted, but not cried out as Bucky had tended to the wound. He'd just finished wrapping Dugan's arm as best he could when something hit his back hard enough it briefly took his breath away. It was a guard's billyclub and the guard holding it looked like he'd be more than happy to use it again. "Back to work." The guard ordered sharply.

"Okay. Okay." Bucky conceded quickly. He normally enjoying being a little contradictory with the guards, but he was not about to risk getting into a fight with a guard with Dugan injured. The guard looked between him and Dugan, and Bucky could feel the warning glare through the visor. Then the guard backed off. Bucky glanced at Morita, who nudged Gabe, who in turn came over to them.

"Trade jobs with me." Gabe insisted quietly and Dugan looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but thought better of it. He silently moved over to the table where Morita and Monty were assembling smaller parts, his arm cradled to his chest, while Gabe moved to Bucky's side. "Show me what to do, Sarge." He insisted softly and Bucky nodded.

"Alright." He worked quickly to show Gabe what he needed and they got back to work, being as careful as possible because Bucky didn't want another person to get hurt. It didn't help that he was distracted trying to figure out what he could do to get supplies to care for Dugan wound as quickly as possible.

He was lost in thought the entire rest of the day and almost yelped when a someone grabbed him during the march back to the cells. He was dragged into the little hidden closet and managed to hold back his instinct to fight as he was pressed to the wall exactly like last time. "Tomorrow you repay me." The guard who had given him the medicine ordered as he pushed something against Bucky's chest. Bucky fumbled as he grabbed at it, trying not to drop the rectangular container, and after a moment had the presence of mind to tuck it under his shirt.

The guard then grabbed his arm, dragged him back out and to his cell, before he left. "Sarge?" Dugan looked pale and was still holding his arm to his chest, but otherwise seemed okay. Everyone else was crowded around him, obviously worried.

"I'm fine." Bucky promised as he knelt next to his friend and pulled out what the guard had given him. It was a small first aid kit. Bucky quickly checked to make sure he had what he needed and could have melted into the floor when he realized he did. There was even a needle and thread for stitches. Bucky had never been so thankful in his life. "Let me see." He took Dugan's arm and carefully started unwrapping it.

Dugan growled a couple of curse words as Bucky unwrapped the cloth, but nothing too loud. Bucky winced at the wound but at least the bleeding had basically come to a stop. "Can you guys hold him still?" Bucky asked the four others in the cell and they took up places. Gabe held one of Dugan's shoulders while Morita held the other. Dernier went behind Dugan's bank, placing a hand on either shoulder. And Monty moved next to Bucky, holding Dugan's forearm still. "Sorry, DumDum, this is going to hurt." Bucky warned but the large man just nodded.

Bucky faltered then gently pulled off Dugan's hat and held it up to his mouth. "Bite that, so you don't accidentally bite your tongue." Bucky insisted softly. Dugan took a breath then bit down on the cap and nodded once as he met Bucky's eyes.

Bucky nodded back then went to work, doing his best to work quickly. He was incredibly thankfully Sarah had taught him and Steve how to sew up wounds. There wasn't much he could use to actually clean it, since their only cloth was the leftover remains of his outer shirt and he had no water, but he did his best. It took eleven stitches and Dugan was trembling with tears on his cheeks by the time Bucky was done. Bucky felt horrible and did his best not to hurt his friend further as he wrapped up the wound in gauze with practiced motions.

Once he was done he sat back and nodded. "There. Should be good as long as it doesn't get infected. Though I wish we had some more bandages. Just… be careful. Don't push yourself too hard or you'll pull those stitches out." Bucky directed as their entire cell seemed to slump in relief. Dugan opened his mouth, panting, and his hat dropped into his lap.

"Thanks Sarge." Dugan said softly, obviously exhausted, and Bucky nodded, giving him a tired smile of his own.

Monty touched Bucky's arm and Bucky jumped slightly. "What did you agree to?" Monty requested sharply and Bucky shrugged.

"Nothing specific. The guard knew it needed to be tended to quickly so he said I'd pay him tomorrow." Bucky informed them without meeting anyone's eyes. Monty wasn't the only one concerned by that, he could tell, but Bucky just cleaned up the unused supplies and handed them out between them to hide. "We should go to sleep." He insisted and while the others obviously weren't happy to leave it at that, they all got settled in.

Ever since he'd gotten sick Monty slept pressed to Bucky's side and he was more grateful than usual for extra warmth since he was down to only his green undershirt and it was cold. He fell asleep quickly and was less anxious than he thought he should be about what the guard was going to ask of him. But he didn't think the man was going to make him do something awful and besides; if it meant Dugan was going to be okay then he could handle whatever it was.

* * *

Their entire cell had unanimously decided that Dugan was on table work duty until his arm healed, so Gabe continued to help Bucky weld as the others did their own work. Bucky was a little impressed how quickly Gabe had picked it up. By the end of the first day Bucky was fairly certain Gabe could have done the actual welding, which was good because the closer the end of the day got the more anxious and distracted Bucky got.

The others didn't ask him any questions at least, though all of them gave him concerned looks when he started falling back during their march to the cells. He'd just gotten to the back of the parade when the guard grabbed his arm and he was pulled into the closet. At least he was expecting it this time.

"Thank you." He said before the guard could say anything.

The guard faltered for a moment then shrugged. "Seemed like a waste to let someone die for something like that."

"Still. You didn't have to, so thank you." Bucky repeated and the guard nodded. Bucky swallowed and took a breath before he spoke again. "This is an exchange, right? So…" Bucky faltered, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

The guard nodded. "Just… same as last time." The man decided and Bucky nodded. But the guard didn't move so Bucky nudged him gently to get him to move back then he flipped them around so the guard's back was against the wall instead of his.

Bucky knelt and had an easier time with the guard's belt than last time as he pulled it open. He pulled down the man's pants and underwear then looked up. Even though he couldn't meet the man's eyes he pretended he could and offered another quick "Thank you" before he swallowed the guard down.

It took even less time than before, since he had a better idea of what the guard liked, and the guard was a little more involved, even grabbed Bucky's hair to guide him. Bucky was glad it didn't seem to take that long because the longer it took the less sleep he was going to get. The guard was panting when Bucky pulled back. "Good?" He offered and the guard nodded.

Bucky stood and backed up to give him a moment, wiped his mouth as he looked over the dusty shelves while the guard slowly got his uniform fixed. It was obvious this room was rarely, if ever, used but Bucky doubted they were the only pair to use the room for a purpose like this. Bucky turned back to look at the guard and, after a moment, spoke. "This… might seem dumb, but… could I see your face?" Bucky asked.

The guard hesitated then gripped his helmet and pulled it off. He was younger than Bucky expected, but a few years older than himself. For a brief moment, Bucky thought he was looking at Steve. A fully grown healthy version of him, anyway, except the guard's hair was lighter and his eyes had more green and his face was more narrow. Bucky shook his head and brought himself back to reality. It had been a while since he'd thought of Steve that vividly.

The guard actually looked slightly concerned and Bucky realized he was staring and quickly looked away. "Sorry. You just… you remind me of someone I left behind." Bucky offered softly.

"Oh." Bucky didn't blame for the guard for not knowing what to say to that either. "My name is Evert." The guard announced suddenly and Bucky offered him a smile.

"Bucky." He answered.

Evert gave him a small smile back then put the helmet back on and grabbed his arm. "Time to go." His voice went back to the harder one Bucky usually heard and it startled him to realize how soft Evert had sounded when he introduced himself. But he didn't say anything, just let the man pull him back to the cells. Evert left as soon as the door was shut and Bucky rubbed his face in his hands.

"Sarge? You okay?" Bucky jumped at Dugan's voice and looked up to see five concerned eyes looking back at him. He took a breath then nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah." He promised. He sat down quickly and leaned back against the cell walls. He felt eyes on him though and opened his own to look at his friends.

"James, are you really alright?" Monty asked and Bucky nodded.

"I'm fine, honest." He assured and after a moment Monty relented. "We should sleep." Bucky added, before they could ask more questions because he didn't really want to talk about it. Thankfully they all seemed to pick up on that and let it go with nothing more than a pat on his shoulder from Morita. Bucky leaned against Monty and fell asleep quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

It was only two days later that Bucky was abruptly pulled back into the hidden closet. He was actually getting used to the suddenness and wasn't surprised this time. For the most part. He was still pinned to the wall and just offered Evert a cautious slight smile. Evert pulled back and to Bucky's surprise took off his helmet, setting it aside on one of the shelves.

He picked something up from the shelf and held it up. "Clean bandages." Evert said and Bucky swallowed as he nodded because that was obvious. And something Dugan desperately needed if they wanted to avoid an infection. Evert set it back on the shelf next to the helmet.

"In exchange for what?" Bucky asked.

Evert looked almost nervous as he said "We can keep doing what we have been if you genuinely don't want to, I have no interest in raping anyone, but I'd like to have sex." Evert informed him.

Bucky took a breath then nodded. "I assume I'm bottom?" Bucky offered as casually as he could and Evert nodded. Bucky swallowed and let out another breath. "Just… don't rush too much? It's been a while." He requested quietly. To his surprise Evert nodded, his face understanding, then he grabbed Bucky's hand and pulled him where he wanted Bucky to go.

Bucky would never admit to being scared as he laid face down on the cold cement floor, but he was terrified. He kept his hands by his head and let Evert do what he wanted. Bucky couldn't help shivering as his trousers were pulled down and he tried not to tense up anything besides his closed fists. His nails dug into his palm hard enough Bucky wouldn't have been surprised to find out he left marks.

But Evert's touch was gentle and he did as promised. He took his time and, if the way he did it was any indication, Evert enjoyed doing it that way too. And if Bucky were honest, he'd been with worse back in Brooklyn for Steve. Been with men who didn't handle him even a fraction as gently as this HYDRA underling. For some reason unknown to him, it made him want to cry.

* * *

Evert flopped onto the ground next to him, panting and half dazed while Bucky was surprisingly sated and relaxed, at least physically. Mentally his thoughts were a wreck, but he had to admit (after two weeks of regular if inconsistent meetings) that there was something he liked about Evert. If they weren't on opposite sides of a war, Bucky might have even called him a friend. But at the very least Bucky was fairly certain he could consider him an ally.

Evert twisted his head to look at him, while Bucky was feeling more asleep than awake. It wasn't that uncommon of a feeling lately. Evert frowned and reach out, pressed his bare fingers to Bucky's forehead. He couldn't help leaning into the touch and closing his eyes. He was pretty sure he was at least a little sick and he'd never been so exhausted in his life. Not that he'd ever let it show.

"Are you alright? You don't look good." Evert asked suddenly, and he sounded genuinely worried.

"Yeah, 'm just tired." Bucky assured almost in a mumble as he pulled back from Evert's fingers and pushed himself up to sitting position. The world swam a little around him, but steadied quickly. He just hoped Evert hadn't noticed the brief pause he'd needed to catch his balance.

Evert had sat up as well and nodded at Bucky's excuse. Whether he actually believed it, Bucky couldn't say. They feel until an unusual silence for a long few minutes before Evert quietly offered "I'm sorry for my part in that."

Bucky shook his head. "I don't blame you. You've done plenty for me and my men as it is; it's worth it." Bucky assured. Evert studied him for a moment then nodded. Bucky offered him a slight smile. "Hey, do you have anyone waiting for you back home? A sweetheart or fella?"

Evert looked away and was quiet for a moment then sighed and nodded. "They're the same man." Evert answered as his entire body softened while he spoke in the way someone in love always did. Bucky pulled in his knees, resting his head on them as he waited for Evert to continue. "He's younger, not a soldier yet. But he wants to be." Evert offered and Bucky snorted.

"God, don't I know how that feels. Mine's the same, though he's old enough. Just not physically well enough and I used to hate it. Never knew if he was going to survive the night half the damn time. Now I'm so thankful because it means he isn't here." Bucky offered and Evert smiled.

"You said that I looked like him?" Evert asked and Bucky shrugged and nodded.

"A bit like a healthier version of him, yeah. You're taller, more muscular. And his hair is more gold and his eyes are more blue than yours." Bucky couldn't help smiling a little talking about Steve. "He's an artist, best I ever saw. Constantly picks fights with bullies, though. I couldn't go a day without worrying about finding him beat to hell in some alleyway." Bucky added and Evert smiled at him.

"Sounds like quite a handful." He agreed and Bucky nodded.

"He's a punk, but he's… well, he's my everything." Bucky explained, unable to stop himself from physically whispering because he'd never admitted it to Steve and it was starting to sink in he probably wouldn't ever have the chance.

Evert studied him for a moment then nodded. "I assume it was for him that you learned how to do this?" Evert asked and Bucky flinched ever so slightly. He swallowed hard before he nodded.

"Yeah. He gets sick all the time and could never hold down a job for long. So sometimes, when we got short on rent and couldn't afford medicine…" Bucky shrugged. "I did what I had to do. I worry about him, how he's doing without me there." He admitted as he pulled his legs in tighter. His shirt was practically threadbare now and every night the temperature dropped further. Even here, in this relatively warm room, he was a little chilled. All he could think about was the nights he spent cuddling up to Steve under every blanket they owned to try and break the blond's fever or to keep him from getting sick.

He missed Steve so bad his heart ached in his chest worse than any of his physical discomforts.

"I hope you see him again." Evert finally said and Bucky smiled.

"And I hope you get to see yours." He answered sincerely, then he forced himself to stand. He was hit by a wave of dizziness, but tried hard not to let it show as he got dressed. He didn't know if he was entirely successful. At least he wasn't sore this time, well, not from what they'd done. He'd been too exhausted to be properly sore for weeks now but still his muscles objected to the harsh unrelenting work he and the other POWs had to do.

But he could keep going, would keep going, until his body gave out if for no other reason than that's what Steve would do, and because it was what the others needed from him. When Evert got dressed Bucky couldn't say but he jumped when Evert took gentle hold of his elbow. He didn't know if Evert noticed the flinch, since his helmet was back on, but he paused for a moment like he might have before tightening his grip and leading Bucky out to the cells.

It was freezing cold in the large room of cages and Bucky was very nearly shivering by the time they reached his cell. Evert nudged him in gently and closed the door quietly, since most everyone was already asleep around them. Bucky watched him leave then took a seat on the ground next to Monty, who stirred. "James?" He whispered sleepily.

"It's me." He assured and Monty pulled him close.

"You're cold." The Brit sounded worried but Bucky just shrugged.

"A bit." He agreed, because it was cold. There was no use lying.

"And later than usual." Monty seemed to be waking up and Bucky cuddled close, hoping whatever meager warmth he could offer would keep Monty sleepy. "Did he hurt you?" Monty asked and Bucky shook his head.

"No, he didn't. He never does. I'm just tired." He assured and Monty frowned but settled against him anyway. Bucky leaned into his friend's chest because he was really cold. Thankfully sleep came quickly, but his nightmares were filled with Steve and bad enough they woke him what felt like every few minutes.

He was even more exhausted come morning and it took a monumental effort to stand when the guards came shouting. When he got to his feet the world spun dizzily enough he had to lean against the cell bars to keep from stumbling or falling. Monty took hold of his arm immediately, helped balance and steady him.

"Thanks." He muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and he breathed. By the time the guards got their cell open he felt a little less dizzy, but his head still felt like it was full of helium as he walked in the procession lines to the warehouse. Monty stayed at his side, close and obviously worried as Bucky did everything in his power not to fall over. He felt more unbalanced than the one time he'd drunk enough to actually black out. It had been the first time after they'd moved in together that Steve had gotten sick enough to be admitted to the hospital.

Monty didn't get a chance to talk as he and the others in the crew got themselves positioned at the work station and Bucky actually felt slightly nervous about getting up on a ladder and welding. But he didn't want anyone else, who didn't know how, to do it either. So he got his tools, moving a little slower than usual to make sure he didn't make any stupid mistakes, and got to work.

By midday Bucky honestly couldn't say if he was less dizzy or more dizzy. He was just _dizzy_ and every movement, every tilt of his head, sent the world twirling. He was on to the most dangerous part of building the missiles: putting the little blue cubes (that hummed with an energy that radiated into his hands and through his body as he held them) into the warhead. Bucky only noticed his hands were shaking seconds before one of the cubes slipped from his fingers.

The world seemed to slow down as the cube fell and Bucky just watched it go. He didn't even try to catch it; he couldn't. Just watched in a daze as it got further and further away. And then it hit the floor.

The explosion was a little smaller than Bucky half expected; not enough to damage the missile casing but more than enough to knock the ladder over and send him falling a good ten or more feet. He was quite sure something broke when he hit the ground, his hip if the pain was any indication. But his head smacked the ground hard too and he had absolutely passed out for at least a few seconds because he had to open his eyes.

And when he did Monty and the others were all standing over him. Monty's hands were hovering, like he wanted to touch, to help, but didn't want to hurt him. Bucky offered him a lazy smirk. "I'm alright." He wheezed and abruptly he realized how hard it was to breath. His back hurt and if he wasn't mistaken he could vaguely taste blood.

"James." Monty almost pleaded his name and Bucky just offered them a weak smile.

"It'll be alright." He tried to promise, only to be interrupted with a cough. Honestly, he didn't feel that bad; if his ears would stop ringing and if his head would stop spinning and if he could take a deep breath again, he'd be fine. Maybe not able to walk for a few days, but fine. Before he could say anything about it one of the guards was there. It was the kindness that clued him in; Evert didn't order the others back to work or try to drag him to his feet.

He seemed to be at a loss for what to do and worried, just like Monty. At least until two more guards came. Bucky's head felt fuzzy and he was still trying to catch his breath, but he tried to stand when the guards shoved his friends away. They objected with voices that, to Bucky, sounded like they were speaking through cotton. They fought back, tried to push past the guards and get back to his side, but their efforts did nothing and Bucky didn't want any of them to get hurt.

He already knew the guards weren't going to let him stay, not with how long it was taking him to get up, and he couldn't get medicine for them anymore if they got hurt while he wasn't around. But his body absolutely rejected his attempts to stand. Trying even to just sit up sent agony radiating from his hip bad enough it took his breath away. The world was spinning again, and getting blurry around the edges.

He cried out involuntarily when two guards grabbed his arms and yanked him up without care. His whole body shook and his watering eyes did not help him to see any more clearly. He could still hear voices, plenty of them, but all of them were muffled and hazy. It was when someone started to drag him that the blackness took over and he lost consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

He didn't really expect to wake up, but when the voices pulled him up from unconsciousness he knew he should try to reassure his friends that he was alive. But his mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen and when he tried to move his arms he met a resistance that kept them bound by his sides. He groaned weakly and spent what felt like forever and a monumental effort to force his eyes to open.

He couldn't help grimacing a little at the surgery lights pointed almost at his face, blinding him. It took maybe a minute for him to get his eyes open again and longer to turn his head. The room was made of the same materials as everything he'd seen throughout the entire facility so he didn't think he'd been taken too far. But this room was much smaller than any he'd seen and absent of any guards. Then again, his hip was throbbing and he was weak and bound to a table of some kind. He wasn't going anywhere on his own anytime soon.

He slipped in and out of consciousness for a while, and was pretty sure people stopped by once or twice, only to abruptly come to awareness to the sounds of something metal near his head. His head snap was more of a flop and it took his vision a few seconds to actually focus on the person standing there. Schmidt's "doctor" Armin Zola. At least, Bucky was pretty sure it was him. He'd seen the short man before, walking around the facility, studying the prisoners. And he'd heard the rumors about what he did to those taken to isolation.

Oh. He was in isolation. That would be why he didn't recognize the room.

Zola was doing something with a bunch of supplies on a tray that caught his attention and a bolt of fear like Bucky had never felt coursed through him when he realized what it was. They were medical supplies, but he knew better than to think Zola was about to treat him. He was going to be tortured or tested on, if rumours were to be believed.

Bucky took a slow breath and tried to remember what he'd been taught should he ever get captured. Of course, he had always expected it to be on a stealth sniper mission and not like this, but the same strategies probably applied either way and he was not going to give anything up. It wasn't like he wasn't already hurting more than he thought possible; any more pain would just add to the ache he was already feeling.

It was about that time Zola noticed he was awake and smiled at him. "I'm so glad you're awake. I would have hated to start treatment without getting some information from you." Zola said and Bucky frowned.

"Not gettin' nothin' from me." The words were a struggle to get out and his accent was in full force without him tempering it, but Zola seemed to understand anyway given the way he sighed.

"Come now. Make this easier on us both. What I want to know is hardly military secrets. You name and birthday, blood type and any medical conditions you have. That's all." Zola encouraged, but Bucky knew better.

He'd been warned how it didn't matter what the question was; if you answered even one it made it so much easier for them to convince you to answer more. So Bucky looked away, found a place on the ceiling just beyond the blinding lights to stare at and silently started repeating his name and rank and number in his head. Nothing Zola couldn't get from the dog-tags tucked under his shirt should he start saying them out loud.

After a moment Zola make an "ah" sound that concerned Bucky a lot more than it should have. "You think I'm going to torture you for information. I'm not." Bucky couldn't help looking at Zola in surprise then, who was cleaning his glasses and seemed genuine. Zola put his glasses back on and chuckled when he saw Bucky's expression. "Sergeant Barnes, you've been here for two months. Any information you could give us we either already know or is no longer relevant. No, you are here simply because you can no longer work. But your body is still valuable to me. You are an experiment. A test subject for me to use and nothing more."

Bucky swallowed and looked back at the ceiling. He didn't want to know what was about to happen to him, just knew that it was going to be miserable. So he ignored Zola as the scientist started doing something again. Bucky was slipping back into a daze when he felt something stick his arm. A needle, a shot. He took a slow breath as the spot started to hurt, a deep muscle ache that spread slowly though his arm. It felt less like fire and more like every one of his nerve endings lite up with pain at once.

It wasn't long at all before that pain spread through his whole body and then his muscles started cramping. All of them at once and he couldn't hold back a cry of pain. He had enough awareness to realize that Zola had left before everything was pain. He couldn't help thrashing in the bonds, half because he thought it would help and half because his muscles were spasming too much for him to keep still.

* * *

Bucky was pretty sure it was a couple of days later that the pain eased enough he could start to think again. Honestly, he had no idea. Every part of him hurt worse than it ever had in basic training and still his muscles were twitching and cramping. The pain in his hip had become a deep, consistent ache, his mouth felt drier than ever, his tongue took up most of the space in his mouth, and he couldn't get enough saliva to even try and sate his throat. He must have been screaming, since even his breathing had a wheezing sound to it that hurt his vocal cords.

Slowly and distantly he became aware of the fact that someone was in the room with him. It took far longer than it ever had to turn his head and for his eyes to focus on the person. It was a guard, who stiffened up when Bucky's eyes landed on him. The guard stood there watching him while the world swam and his vision went fuzzy, even briefly turned black.

When he opened his eyes again the guard was closer and then held something out. A canteen, that he held out to Bucky's mouth. Bucky didn't even care what was in it; he eagerly drank. It was water, at least it tasted like water, and it was the best thing Bucky had ever tasted. No matter how badly it hurt sliding down his throat and how hard it was to swallow around the soreness.

The water settled heavy in his stomach and he fought down a wave of nausea as it did. The last thing he wanted was to throw up the first fluids he'd had in days. He jerked when fingers came to rest gently on his forehead and he leveled his best glare at the guard because he had no other defense. The guard pulled his fingers back, and Bucky realized he'd taken off his gloves, then the guard glanced at the door.

It was just slightly open, but Bucky couldn't hear or see anything in the hall. The guard then took off his helmet and Bucky felt a tiny bit bad for glaring because it was Evert underneath. He could only offer a weak, pained groan as a greeting and Evert offered him a sad smile. "I'm sorry I can't do more." He said quietly and Bucky shook his head.

Even that little bit of movement hurt and it was a struggle to stay concentrated on Evert and what he was saying. But the water was helping; Bucky could actually feel it being taken in by his body and his headache was feeling slightly less awful. He still hurt more than he thought a human being could, but Evert's hand coming to rest on his cheek helped. "Bucky?" He asked and Bucky offered him a flicker of a smile before he pulled his head away and nodded at the door.

"Go." He managed to wheeze and Evert looked surprisingly torn before he sighed.

"I'll try and bring more water when I can." He promised. Bucky was taken by surprise when Evert placed a kiss on his lips. He didn't even get a chance to return the kiss before Evert pulled back and reached for his helmet.

Both of them jumped when someone grabbed Evert's wrist and Bucky realized abruptly that there were guards there now, standing behind his friend and blocking the door. "Well, well. What do we have here? A fairy doting on a prisoner. I bet Zola would enjoy this." The guard who had grabbed Evert sounded far too satisfied and Bucky had heard that tone from homophobes back home.

Evert didn't even get a chance to really fight, not that he stood much of a chance even as he tried. There were five other guards in the room and they wrestled Evert to the ground, slamming him against it hard enough Evert let out a cry of pain. Bucky wanted to help, but his control over his limbs felt inconsistent and pushing against the bonds did nothing to help him get free.

The guards yanked Evert up and shoved him down on the gurney nearby. Bucky didn't know why it had stayed there, since he was pretty sure it had been used to bring him here, but nobody had taken it out. They strapped Evert down despite his thrashing, but his efforts were in vain. Bucky wanted to apologize, to say _something_ to Evert, but whatever voice he'd gotten back was once again gone. So he could do nothing but watch as one of the guards left and it felt like an eternity before he came back.

Evert looked terrified and Bucky couldn't blame him, especially not when the one who followed the guard into the room was Zola. The doctor looked sleepy; he'd very obviously been woken up, but he perked up a bit when he saw Evert. "What is this?" He asked the guard who had grabbed Evert's wrist earlier. He must be important somehow, since his uniform had a few extra pins and stripes on it.

"We caught this one kissing the American." The guard informed him and Zola's entire countenance changed. Bucky felt his heart sink because the excitement on Zola's face was palpable.

"Really? This is wonderful. I've never been able to experiment on a homosexual before." Zola's eyes finally landed on Bucky and Zola seemed surprised. "You're still alive." He declared, eyes wide in shock, and Bucky just glared at him. Zola didn't seem bothered in the slightest as the shock gave way to even more excitement. "This is phenomenal." Zola muttered to himself, looking between Bucky and Evert and almost bouncing in place eagerly.

Bucky was afraid of that look and his fear seemed well deserved as Zola hurried over to one of the cupboards nearby and grabbed something. Several somethings, probably. Bucky took a moment to glance at Evert, who had gone very pale. "It'll be okay." Bucky mouthed, but it was obvious Evert didn't believe him if he even saw at all. Some light in Evert's eyes died as Zola returned with a tray, setting it up between them.

Zola didn't inject either of them with anything right away. He checked both their heart rates, their pupils with a light, other things he'd tested on Bucky before. He seemed a little surprised by the results he got this time, but only Bucky's. _Then_ came the injection. It felt almost exactly like last time; a slow tingling that then lit every nerve ending on fire. But this time Bucky didn't faint right away. He stayed awake long enough to hear Evert screaming from next to him before everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**~AN: WARNING: Lots of homophobic slurs in this chapter~**

Bucky was brought to awareness by his body twitching uncontrollably, to the bite of the straps digging into his arms as they jerked. Someone was moaning like an animal in pain and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize the sound was coming from _him_. He forced himself to be quiet, did his best to still his twitching limbs with no success. Everything still hurt, he was exhausted in every way, and his head was throbbing. He had a feeling even if he could stand up right now, he'd just fall over because the world was already swaying dangerously.

Then he looked at Evert and really wished he hadn't. The man was dead. His face was contorted in pain and he must have been slamming his head down again the table because there was a large pool of blood underneath. Bucky didn't know if that had killed him or something in the injection because Evert was ghostly pale, his eyes were fogged over by death, and there were blood trails from both his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. It was subtle, but Bucky was pretty sure Evert's body was still faintly twitching.

Bucky was grateful that his body's attempt to throw up only brought up a little bile and none of the water Evert had given him. Bucky couldn't get his head far enough to spit out what came up without getting it on himself so he swallowed it. It probably wasn't the worst thing for him he'd ever eaten, even if it felt like he'd swallowed glass as it slid down his throat.

Bucky's eyes naturally landed on that same point on the ceiling he'd chosen to stare at on the first day. Had it already been days since then? Bucky was pretty sure it had been, but time moved differently in this little room. The pain made everything muggy and he had no idea if Zola kept any kind of consistent schedule. Even the light outside the window was hard to track.

There was a little crack in the ceiling marking the spot directly above him and Bucky could have sworn he'd seen a spider crawl in and out of it more than once. For some reason, as his vision kept going fuzzy because he forgot to blink for long periods of time, all he could think about was Evert's sweetheart. The one he left behind. The poor guy was probably waiting excitedly to hear from his soldier. A letter that wouldn't come now. Would he even be notified that Evert died or would he just spend the rest of his life wondering what had happened to him?

Then it wasn't Evert's sweetheart he was thinking about, but his. His Stevie, who he hadn't written a letter to in over a month even before he got captured. Who was probably worrying himself sick, if he wasn't off doing something dumb to get into the army. Bucky knew his family had probably been told by now that he was MIA, which meant Steve probably knew too. But if Bucky died here… they'd burn his body and nobody would ever know what really happened to him. Not Steve, not his family, not even the guys here with him.

He didn't want that. Suddenly he could hear Steve whispering in his left ear, clear but quiet. Urging him not to give up, to stay strong. To not give up because he'd be there soon to save him. It sounded so real Bucky couldn't help but look. Nothing was there. _No one_ was there. But Bucky was absolutely certain he'd heard Steve's voice.

He was still trying to find a source to Steve's voice and jumped when the door to the isolation room opened abruptly. It was closed behind the arrival and Bucky had steeled himself back to a neutral expression by the time the person had come around to where he could see them. It was a guard in the usual regalia, one who was staring at Evert's body. The guard's helmet was on so Bucky didn't know what expression the man had.

Then the guard looked at him. "Dirty fag." The man practically growled under his breath and Bucky couldn't help wincing. He'd been called plenty of homophobic slurs throughout his life simply because of his close friendship with Steve, but he hadn't expected to hear one now. And he'd never heard anyone sound so utterly hateful saying it.

"You and him are disgusting." The guard continued, nodding at Evert as he spoke and Bucky couldn't help it. He blamed spending too much time with Steve.

"You shouldn't disrespect the dead like that." He snapped back and the guard slapped him. In the grand scheme it didn't hurt that bad at all, but it was enough to make his head jerk to the side and it took him a few minutes to get his bearings as the world spun around him.

"You shouldn't disrespect _me_ like that. You're disgusting and wrong and I'm going to teach you a lesson." The guard undid his belt and Bucky realized what he intended to do. Thrashing did nothing, especially not when the guard sat on his chest. Bucky felt his eyes tearing up, but refused to cry here. Refused to cry in front of this man.

"Go to hell." Bucky growled and the guard grabbed his jaw none too gently.

"You're going to take it like the dirty little fag you are and if you bite me you will regret it." The guard warned. He let go of Bucky's jaw long enough to get himself free from his pants and Bucky twisted his head away. It was a petty and ineffective thing to do, especially since the guard just grabbed his jaw and forced him back into place. So he clenched his teeth, refusing to open his mouth.

The guard seemed vaguely annoyed as he let go of himself and pinched Bucky's nose shut with his other hand. "Be a good little bitch and just take it. There are other places I could use." The man warned low in his ear.

Bucky opened his mouth less because of what the man had said and more because his lungs were demanding air. But the guard took advantage either way, shoving into his mouth long before Bucky had even caught his breath. He choked on it, felt like he was suffocating almost, but the guard just started thrusting and he could do nothing but take it.

* * *

Steve was there again. This time sitting on his chest just like some of the guards did when they decided to take advantage of him. Steve wasn't punishing him, though, of course. Just laying on his chest like his friend had done occasionally back home to get his attention, or sometimes Steve curled up on top of him for warmth or comfort. This time he was murmuring gentle encouraging words. Insisting as always that Bucky not give up or give in, to stay strong.

Bucky had never realized how physically affectionate he and Steve had been until he'd joined the army and lost that touch. He missed it right now like a man in the desert misses water. No one had touched him gently since Evert's last kiss. He was pretty sure it had only been a week since Evert had died. Pretty sure, even though it felt eons longer. But with half his conscious time spent hallucinating and the other half in unbelievable pain, from Zola's injections or from the guards or frequently both, his sense of time was seriously skewed.

He'd started muttering his mantra out loud to make sure he didn't say something dangerous in front of the wrong person. He'd seen Steve morph into Zola and guards morph into Steve. Sometimes he didn't realize someone was in the room with him or he could have sworn there was someone there when there wasn't. Sometimes Steve's face looked more like Evert's dead one, with bloody tears falling down his cheeks. Bucky wasn't sure if that one was a hallucination or a nightmare or if it really made a different anymore but that was always the worst.

The spider in the crack in the ceiling was a hallucination too. He was pretty sure, anyway, since it seemed to multiple every time Bucky saw it. It was the only consistent hallucination besides Steve and Evert. He'd seen most of his squad at one point or another, and his family had shown up once or twice too. But mostly it was Steve. His friend would stroke his hair or touch his cheeks or arms, ghostly gentle fingers running delicately over bruises. Or Steve would climb up into his lap and lay on his chest like a little cat. Bucky was always thankful because even as a hallucination Steve was warm.

Steve wasn't talking to him this time, which was fine. Bucky never answered him anyway, just kept repeating his name and ID, but it was nice to hear Steve's voice. He'd missed it. And it was nice to have Steve close, curled up on his chest where Bucky wished he could wrap his friend up in his arms and hold him tight, keep him safe.

"Oh god, Bucky." That… was Steve's voice but it was different. Stronger and less wheezy. It wasn't from the hallucination on his chest either. Slowly Bucky tilted his head towards the sound and saw a man standing beside him that he'd never seen before and yet seemed intimately familiar. He was tall, bigger and more muscular than any man Bucky had ever seen. But Bucky knew those blue eyes better than he did his own and only Steve had ever had such golden hair.

For the first time since Evert's body had been taken away, he broke his repetition with a whispered, confused "Steve?"

"It's me, Buck." The strange Steve look-alike promised and Bucky wasn't quite sure he believed him until he ripped the straps that had kept him bound for so long clean off. Like they were made of paper. Steve then helped him up from the table, hauled him to his feet, and all Bucky could think was how confused he was. And how much he really hoped this wasn't a hallucination.


	6. Chapter 6

The march to camp was less awful than Bucky expected, at least physically. He wasn't as dizzy or weak or hurting nearly as badly as he thought he maybe should be. Mentally, though… That was a totally different case. He was so happy to know his work crew, his _friends_, had all made it out in one piece, more or less.

He didn't feel quite so whole himself. Even as the world became less dizzy and his body stopped aching so much, he could feel the phantom touch of the guards crawling all over his skin. It made him itch and the only thing stopping him from scratching until he bled was everyone else around him. Was Steve lingering at his shoulder and watching him so attentively. It used to be his job to watch over Steve and it made him uncomfortable to be on the receiving end.

Bucky knew it shouldn't have. It was Steve, his friend, his best friend, his everything, who was just trying to make sure he was okay. But feeling those constant eyes on him? It was too much like being on that table. And no matter how familiar Steve was to him, Bucky wasn't used to this new body. He was used to Steve being small, not a giant bigger than him and capable of lifting cars. There was a little part of him that couldn't help flinching out of fear every time Steve reached for him unexpectedly.

He was thankful Steve seemed to be healthy now, he really was. The others seemed to like him and he was making friends, which was another thing Bucky was grateful for. Partially because it meant he could pull back and scratch at his arms without being noticed or he could mess with the rifle strapped to his chest, checking it over and over because it was comforting to know that there was a loaded functioning weapon in his hands, without getting a concerned look from Steve.

Their arrival to camp was busy and Bucky made sure to keep everyone's attention on Steve. He deserved to be known and noticed and praised. A nice side benefit was that Steve became immediately swamped with things to do and people who wanted to talk to him, giving Bucky a chance to quietly slip away. More than anything, he wanted to bathe. He wanted to at least try and wash away the itch under his skin. The half of camp nearest to the river was practically empty and Bucky didn't pause at any of the tents.

His heart nearly stopped when someone suddenly grabbed his arm and he immediately wrenched free, even stumbled back a few steps fists up defensively, before he realized it was Monty. Monty, who was now holding his hands up in a peacekeeping gesture and hadn't moved any closer. Bucky lowered his hands. "Damn Monty, you scared me." He complained, trying for a light tone that probably sounded a bit forced.

"I apologize. I saw you hurry off and wanted to make sure you were okay." Monty explained and Bucky swallowed, feeling a little guilty at the obvious concern on Monty's face.

"Sorry, yeah. I just… I'm really eager to take a bath, you know? Haven't really had one in three months." He said and Monty nodded.

"Would you like some company? I also would like to bathe before everyone attempts to." He offered.

Bucky hesitated then shook his head. "Not today, Monty. You're welcome to take the usual spot, though. I know another one a bit further upriver that nobody goes to and I think I need some time to clear my head." Bucky explained.

Monty immediately pulled back and folded his hands passively in front of him as he nodded. "Of course. If you change your mind, the offer stands." He added and Bucky gave him the most genuine smile he could muster at the moment.

"Thanks, Monty. You're a really good man." Bucky said before he started walking again and left the Englishman behind.

He was just to the edge of camp when he saw a tub, one of the stations used to clean dishes, and sitting there was one of the steel wool scouring sponges they used on the dishes. He couldn't help it as he moved over to the tub and picked it up. It was scratchy against his palm and seemed so innocuous, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, it might be enough to stop the phantom fingers and hands he could feel all over his body.

Taking it with him he started walking, following the sound of the river and the well worn path to it. The usual bathing area was a spot where the river widened, becoming slower and shallower. Several squads could bathe at once with elbow room to spare. But Bucky preferred a spot up river; he had found it one late night after coming back from a sniper mission that had gone wrong. The first and only time he'd ended up getting up close to his target in order to finish the man off and he'd been soaked in blood. Despite the late hour, the usual spot had been busy with other soldiers and Bucky hadn't been able to bring himself to face them just then so he'd wandered upriver.

It was a bit of a hike through bushes and trees and there was no formed path, but Bucky didn't have much trouble. The scratches given to him from the branches actually helped ease the itch a little. It took about ten minutes to get there, but it was well worth it. The spot was isolated and set in a very dense part of the forest: it was nearly impossible to see through the trees. The shore-line was narrow and made of rocks instead of sand, but Bucky didn't care about them digging into his bare feet.

His shirt came off first; it was concerningly crunchy and he wasn't much colder with it off than he had been with it on with how thin it had gotten. He pushed off his trousers and underwear and then set to work taking off his boots. It took some time since he hadn't taken them off in weeks, but amazingly his feet were less sore than he expected. And it felt great to wiggle his toes, to feel a breeze between them. He stripped the rest of the way, left his clothes on the shore, and walked into the water.

It was cold, but it felt so good on his skin. He walked until the water was up to his chest then took a deep breath and slipped under. It was strangely surreal. The world became quiet and the water took his weight, leaving him partially floating. With his eyes closed, it was like he was in another world where nothing hurt and he hadn't been through hell. The water pulled the grease from his hair and he spent a bit working through it with his fingers.

Then the touching started again. Unwanted fingers running up and down his torso, his arms, his legs. It was incessant. Slowly he remembered the steel wool sponge in his hand. Bucky pushed himself to the surface and hesitated for a moment then he started scrubbing his arm with the sponge. It hurt just a little, but after the pain Zola had put him through it actually felt… good. It was scratchy, but the slight twinge helped. It replaced the phantom hands, at least for a little while. He had to keep going over some areas.

He felt slightly manic as he nearly desperately tried to scrub away the itch. It was almost like the brief time as a child he'd had chicken pox and had wanted to scratch his skin off. Only now it was something he wasn't sure would ever fully go away.

The sudden hand that grabbed his wrist, the one holding the sponge, scared him half to death. He jerked back with a cry, yanking as hard as he could to get his arm free, ready to yell and thrash and claw. Whatever it took to avoid being held against his will again. But whoever had grabbed him was strong and didn't give even an inch. He fought, threw punches with his free hand that were easily blocked and kicks that were ignored. He could barely hear anything over the rush in his ears. Then, he realized someone was calling him. Calling "Bucky!" frantically.

His vision finally focused on the person holding his arm and he took in that it was Steve standing there. Like he'd slammed into a wall, every muscle in his body decided it didn't want to fight anymore and he practically slumped into Steve's chest unable to fully hold himself up. "Steve?" He asked quietly, still not entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating again.

Large warm hands immediately came to rest on his back and helped support him. They didn't feel like Steve's old hands, except for in their gentleness and the way they just seemed to know every little spot of tension in his back. For once Bucky wasn't bothered by the touch.

"I'm here, Buck, I'm here. But what were you doing?" Steve asked almost gruffly, a little of his spitfire temper in his voice that Bucky knew was out of concern, and Bucky forced himself to look at his friend's face simply confused.

"Bathing?" He offered hesitantly and Steve gently pulled at his arm, held it up so Bucky could see it. And what he saw surprised him; nearly every centimeter of skin was covered in red scratches, the vast majority of them deep enough to be solidly bleeding. Slowly he looked down and realized his other arm, his torso, and both his legs were covered in the same cuts. Everywhere he'd been scrubbing with the steel wool sponge. "Oh."

"Jesus, Bucky, 'oh'? That's it? That's all you've got to say?" Steve asked and Bucky opened his mouth, but the words got caught in his throat. Instead of saying anything, tears started falling down his cheeks and his free hand was trembling hard as he pressed it to his mouth to hold back a sob.

Suddenly, Steve pulled him close again, held him tightly against the now larger man's chest. And Bucky couldn't hold back: he clung to Steve desperately as he sobbed. His whole body was trembling and he could hardly breathe, let alone talk, he was crying so hard. All the while Steve stood there holding him and rubbing his back, occasionally offering gentle reassurances, little whispered promises that were not unlike the ones he used to give to Steve when he was sick.

It wasn't until he was finally able to take a deep breath again that Steve spoke. "Buck, we really should get you out of the water and into something warm. You're freezing. And bleeding so we really need to take care of those wounds." He said.

Bucky wanted to say something, he did, but his voice had abandoned him. As had his decision-making because all he could do was cling to Steve. After a few moments Steve seemed to realize Bucky wasn't about to comment and sighed softly. "Okay, Bucky. Just hold on, alright?" He insisted gently before he scooped Bucky up.

Bucky couldn't help yelping and he scrambled for purchase, clinging to Steve's shoulders and wrapping an arm around his neck. His arms were trembling and he felt cold to his core and was only realizing how cold he was pressed against Steve who was radiating warmth better than any heater Bucky had ever encountered.

Steve was holding him without any sign of strain and carried him to shore. The wind was icy as it blew through the clearing and Bucky clung closer to Steve, who tightened his grip in response. "I've got you, Buck. I've got you." Steve promised quietly as he looked around. "Did you even bring a towel or clothes?" He finally asked and Bucky shook his head.

Steve bit his lip, obviously worried then he sighed. "You'll have to put your uniform back on then, I guess."

"No!" Bucky refused to put those disgusting clothes back on. He'd rather walk to camp naked.

"Bucky, it's too cold." Steve objected but Bucky shook his head admiantly.

"Not putting them back on." He declared, sharp and low, as he and Steve got into a staring contest that lasted a long few seconds. Steve gave in first with a sigh.

"Buck…" He started then stopped himself. "Alright, fine, but you aren't going naked." Steve insisted. He set Bucky down so the brunet was standing on his shoes, a reserve of the position they'd taken so many years ago when Bucky had attempted to teach Steve how to dance. Bucky clung to him and Steve had one arm wrapped around his back to keep him balanced as the blond shrugged off his leather jacket. Steve then wrapped it around Bucky's shoulders and helped the brunet into it.

It was actually slightly big on him, but the warmth that seeped into his core had less to do with the jacket and more who had given it to him. The jacket smelled like Steve, a scent Bucky had managed to forget in Azzano and had never once appeared in any of his hallucinations, but one that he knew intimately. He could never mistake it for anything else, would never associate it with anything else.

"Steve…" He started, unsure where he was going with the sentence. He didn't need to complete it; Steve's smile, the small warm one that had always been just for him, told him Steve already knew.

"Come on, Buck. I don't want you getting sick or infected." Steve insisted before he scooped Bucky back up like he weighed nothing. Bucky didn't fight, just settled against Steve's chest. Despite his bare legs he was surprisingly warm and he felt safe for the first time since, well, since he'd shipped out if he were honest. Steve had been walking for barely even a minute before he fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7 (The End)

Bucky woke abruptly to rustling fabric and someone carrying him. He felt cold air on his bare skin and started to panic. He squirmed and tried to get whoever it was carrying him to let him go so he could run or at least fight. "Bucky." Steve's firm call snapped him out of it and he froze as he finally opened his eyes.

"Steve." The word was more of a gasp with how he was panting, but it _was_ Steve carrying him. Looking more concerned than Bucky had ever seen him.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?" Steve asked and slowly Bucky took in where they were. They were in an officer's tent, had just entered it actually. Bucky was pretty sure it hadn't been assigned to anyone because it was devoid of any personal touches, but there was a cot and a wash basin and a chest for supplies. "Bucky?" Steve's question made him jump and his eyes landed back on his friend.

Though his heart rate was finally slowing his body was trembling from the jolt of adrylyn. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. So much so it made him dizzy though he was pretty sure he had a fever that was making it worse. He managed a soft groan as he set his head on Steve's chest as the world swam around him.

"Bucky." Steve shook him gently but Bucky couldn't reply. The shaking wasn't helping his dizziness. Steve covered the last few steps to the cot in in what felt a second and then Bucky was laying down on it. Steve wrapped him up in a sleeping bag and pressed his fingers to Bucky's head before he muttered "Jesus, you're burning up."

"Head hurts." Bucky admitted quietly and Steve frowned.

"You need a medic, Buck." Steve insisted as he straightened up and Bucky reached out and snatched Steve's wrist to keep him from walking away.

"No doctors. Please. Not again." He pleaded and Steve faltered. "Please." Bucky whispered and Steve slumped.

"At least let me get someone to tend to those cuts." Steve requested, pleading in a way that Bucky had always had trouble denying, and Bucky swallowed hard before he nodded.

"Monty. Monty can do it." He offered.

Steve did not look happy but nodded anyway. "Okay. You stay right there." Steve insisted before he rushed out of the tent. Bucky briefly wondered why Steve hadn't changed his wet clothes or at least put his jacket back on before he'd left, but then he closed his eyes and was pretty sure he lost a few minutes because when he opened them again both Steve and Monty were in the tent looking at him in concern.

"Hey." Bucky offered weakly and Monty frowned.

"What happened, James?" Monty asked as he knelt next to the cot and examined what Bucky had to assume were marks on his face like the ones he had on his arms. Bucky just shrugged and Monty frowned but didn't press. "I need some medical supplies, bandages and clean water. Something for the fever as well." Monty informed Steve.

"How do I get that?" Steve asked and Monty arched an eyebrow.

"I would advise asking the medical tent." He offered politely and Steve nodded.

He looked at Bucky for a long few seconds and when Bucky offered him a weak smile Steve nodded and left. Monty watched him go then turned on Bucky with a firm look. Bucky couldn't help shrinking under the glare. "Sorry." He offered weakly.

Monty sighed and his expression softened as he pushed some of Bucky's unruly wet hair from his face. "Just tell me what happened. Please." He requested.

Bucky swallowed and checked the door to make sure that Steve had left. After taking a slow breath he started with "In isolation…" Monty winced just a little at that. "The guards found out about Evert. They…" Bucky swallowed, unable to continue, but Monty didn't seem to need him too. The Englishman reached out and set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I can still feel their hands, Monty." He admitted in a whisper.

Immediately his friend's whole body softened further and Bucky was more grateful than he could ever explain that Monty wasn't looking at him with pity or digest, only sympathy. "Oh, James." Monty paused for a moment then got a towel from the chest and gently went to work drying Bucky's hair. He slumped into the touch and had to fight back tears. "Have you told Captain Rogers?" Monty asked after a few minutes and Bucky shook his head.

"I can't." He practically whimpered. "He… He won't look at me the same, Monty. I can't." He insisted and Monty sighed.

"He's worried about you, I think you know that." Monty warned as he finally pulled the towel away from Bucky's head. Bucky nodded as he dropped his head back against the pillow as another wave of dizziness hit him. Monty's hand on his shoulder helped ground him and keep him from getting swept up in the unconsciousness pulling at him.

It was a few minutes before he was able to open his eyes again and Monty looked more worried than before. "Just, can you promise me you won't do whatever it was that left you scratched up like this again?" Monty requested.

"Don't think it helped anyway." Bucky admitted because it hadn't. He could still feel their hands on his legs and their weight on his chest and despite the bath he felt dirty, inside and out.

Monty opened his mouth to say something when Steve practically burst back in, arms full of medical supplies that he promptly delivered to Monty. "There. I think that's everything." He panted as he knelt next to the cot and Monty looked through it quickly.

"Should be. Thank you, Captain." Monty went to work on Bucky's face and after a minute he paused. "James, do you want him to stay while I do the rest?" He asked and Bucky saw the sharp look Steve gave Monty, the flash of temper that rose at the thought of anyone making him leave.

"It's fine." He assured, mostly because Steve had already seen him naked and he was too tired to argue with the blond at the moment.

Monty nodded and gently pulled away the sleeping bag. Steve helped Bucky to sit up and they worked together to get his jacket off. Monty grimaced as all the red scratches were revealed. His entire body was a mess of them and some were worse than others. Steve's hand on his shoulders tightened as he took in the marks and Bucky had to fight so hard not to flinch he was trembling.

And of course Steve noticed. "Buck? You okay?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded.

"Just exhausted." He offered since it was believable and true, though he wasn't nearly as tired as he thought maybe he should feel.

"Hold on. Just a little bit longer then you can rest." Steve assured and Bucky nodded, offering him a weak smile. Inside though he was feeling numb again and more than anything he wanted to sleep.

Monty tended to his wounds quickly and fed him the medicine. He was so thankful it wasn't a shot because it didn't matter that it was Monty and Steve on either side of him, he could not handle getting a shot probably ever again. Finally Steve allowed him to lay down, though he added "You should eat or drink something, Bucky."

"Later." Bucky promised weakly. He was so tired; he didn't care how hungry he was, he just wanted to sleep.

"Can I help you get dressed at least?" Steve asked and Bucky swallowed as he looked at Steve's face. His friend was so worried about him and he knew Steve wouldn't be able to settle in the slightest until he had some reassurance that Bucky would be okay. So he nodded. Steve's whole body slumped in relief and Monty suddenly held out a uniform. Bucky didn't have the slightest clue where the Englishman had gotten it from.

"These should fit him." Monty added and Steve nodded.

"Thanks." He said as Monty stood.

"Of course. James, you should stay in bed for tomorrow at least. Steve, let me know if anything changes. I'll do what I can to help." Monty directed.

"Thanks, Monty." Bucky offered quietly and the Englishman squeezed his shoulder.

"Get some rest. You deserve it." He insisted before he left the tent.

Silence had never been awkward between Steve and Bucky before but he was feeling it now. Thankfully Steve seemed too preoccupied with his concern to notice as he quickly went through the clothes Monty had given him and handed Bucky what he needed piece by piece. It honestly felt great to get on some clean, not to mention warm, attire and having his body covered helped him to feel safer. Less like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

Steve was hovering while Bucky snuggled down into the sleeping bag, enjoying feeling properly warm for the first time in months. It made him sleepy, rather than simply exhausted, and just as he was drifting off he heard Steve take a seat next to the cot. He forced an eye open and muttered "Thanks, Steve."

Steve's response was a brilliant smile, the one that could outshine the sun, and even now made Bucky's heart skip a beat. It was a sight he had missed and it was all the better because for once Steve wasn't too gaunt or too pale or too thin underneath it. He was healthy, practically radiant, and briefly Bucky wondered if maybe he hadn't died on that table and this was just his version of heaven.

* * *

**AN: This is the ****_official_**** end! Thanks for reading and let me know if you guys want me to maybe write some one shots or something in this universe to continue (or prequel) the story. Hope you liked it!**


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